Dirty Little Secret
by FloraIrmaTylee
Summary: AU. Hermione Granger is the princess of Gryffindor, and to reunite the country is to be married to Harry Potter. But there's one thing neither of them counted on: Draco Malfoy, the arrogant prince of the kingdom Slytherin. Dramione. Cover by kaunelly on Deviantart.
1. When we live such fragile lives

**So, guess who jumped into the Harry Potter fandom like ten years late? Yup, me. I've only been a fan for about a month, I'd say- but I'm in love. I finally read the books. But no, it wasn't the constant pressure from my friends. It was a Hogwarts AU story I read that made me curious and give in. Read it, it's a perfectly beautiful story called "A Hogwarts Story" by Palleas. Anyway, now that I had gotten into the fandom, I was like, woohoo! I can finally become a canon fan! **

**Sadly, YouTube, Deviantart and Tumblr had another idea. They decided to tell me, "No, you're going to fall in love with Dramione." I was like, "No! I have to like Ron with Hermione! They're canon!" **

**But no, the ship drowned me in feels until I declared myself a Dramione fan. So this popped out! This is an AU, no magic, but rather a Princess tale. So overdone, so done to death, yeah, but here's my take on something like this. **

* * *

The sun parted the silvery clouds in the sky, but Hermione Granger wished that it wasn't up quite so soon. Princesses had to get up at the brink of dawn, something the royal wasn't fond of.

"Princess," one of the various maids of the household popped her head through the ornate bedroom doors. "Your mother is requesting your presence in the ballroom."

Hermione knew this was coming. It wasn't going to be avoided. She had, however, hoped that it wouldn't happen quite so soon.

"Yes, thank you," she told maid, sitting up in her bed and pushing the satin covers by her side. The maid waited expectantly for Hermione's next orders. "Oh- er- you may leave now," Hermione said, and the maid bowed respectfully before taking her leave. The way that these maids had to respond to her every word sickened Hermione. She'd have to talk to her parents about that.

Sliding out of bed, she winced as her bare feet grazed the cold floor. It wasn't appealing to rise at such an early hour, she thought. How her parents managed it without fail was astonishing. Another maid, a freckled young redheaded girl entered the room, bearing a lavender gown and matching heels.

"Princess," the girl bowed her head low, causing some of her red hair to slip over her forehead. "I have your clothes. The Queen request that I help you dress-"

"Thank you, but that will not be necessary," Hermione smiled at the girl. She looked around Hermione's age, so Hermione felt more at ease with the stranger. "Could you please go tell my mother that I'll be down in a moment?"

"Of course," the girl bowed low, leaving the clothing on Hermione's nightstand. "I'll return once you bathe and clothe to fix your hair, Princess."

"Thank you-" Hermione said, leaving a pause for the girl to tell her her name, but the maid simply bowed again and left.

Living in the castle was fun, but lonely. Hermione wished there was somebody she could talk to, anybody she could befriend. Walking into the bathroom, she turned on the tap to fill the marble tub with hot water. Humming quietly to herself, she rummaged among the oils and scents the cupboard had to offer, deciding to choose sandalwood as her scent. Pouring a liberal amount into her water, Hermione began to dance around the bathroom, still humming as she found her toiletries to shower.

Next, she poured bubble bath into her water, smiling as the water frothed with the scented bubbled. Baths were fun, and when she didn't have anything in her way to attend to, she would love to frolic in the water all day until her skin wrinkled from staying in too long. This gave Hermione an extra spring in her step as she surveyed the results of her bath. Finding it to her satisfaction, she began to untie the corset that tied her nightgown.

"I have to say.." a drawling voice said from behind Hermione, startling the young princess into letting go of her corset strings. "I'm enjoying the view, Granger."

Hermione whirled around, clutching her dress as for it not to fall, and set her eyes on the intruding form of Draco Malfoy, a neighboring prince from the kingdom of Slytherin.

"Malfoy!" Hermione growled, blushing bright red. "How did you get into my room?!"

"That maid of yours," Draco turned to the closed door behind him, tilting his head. "Shame she's poor, though; pretty thing like her. Anyway, she was easily convinced I was courting you so she let me in."

"Get out, you blasted git!" Hermione gathered her sandalwood oil to throw at him. "Get out before I throw this at you!"

"Easy, Granger, easy," Draco smiled, his lips curling into a smirk. "What would your parents say if they knew you tried to attack your guest?"

"You are not-" Hermione slowly lowered the bottle she held. "You? Why are you a guest?"

"Simple," Draco leaned against the bathroom door. "Your mother and my mother have monetary business to attend to. What could be expected from the poorest kingdom out there-"

"I will hurl this at your head Malfoy, and without hesitation, you stupid-" Hermione curled her fingers tighter around the bottle. "Now get out!"

"Any girl in the kingdom would kill to be in your spot Granger, and you're trying to kick me out?" Draco grinned.

"Get out!" Hermione whipped the bottle at his head, but Draco nimbly avoided it.

"I'll leave you to your bath, Granger," Draco smiled, that ever-so-cocky grin of his still gloating over his lips. "What unlucky man would ever want to see you naked anyway?" Hermione stormed towards him hurtling curses and the most foul things she could think of, all the while backing him to the door.

"You have absolutely nothing better to do than taunt me, don't you, Malfoy?" Hermione was practically yelling. "Leave! Get the bloody hell out!"

Draco wasn't intimidated, instead, he just smirked and exited the bathroom. Hermione, seething, went back to her bath. Stupid Draco, being the most despicable thing on the planet. This was exactly why she didn't have friends. Because the people she was supposed to befriend were absolutely horrid.

* * *

"Draco, dear," Queen Narcissa spread her arms wide to greet her son as he tramped down the elegant staircase. She and Queen Monica were sitting next to each other, sipping tea in the dining room.

"Mother," Draco replied with a smile, leaning in to peck his mother's cheek. "Are you-" he turned to give Queen Monica a scalding look- "Done yet?"

"Not yet, Draco, be patient," Narcissa said. "Why don't you run off and play with Hermione or something?"

"Narcissa," Monica interrupted warmly, though her smile seemed forced. "They're grown now, they don't play anymore. You've gotten so big, Draco. How old is he?"

"Seventeen," Narcissa beamed, squeezing Draco's arm affectionately. "So old- of marrying age, too, I might add."

"Mother," Draco frowned, moving away from her. "When should you finish?"

"Another hour or so, Draco dear," Narcissa waved the hand not clutching a delicate teacup. "Why not go find Hermione?"

"I believe she's busy at the moment," Draco made a face at the memory of going into her bathroom.

"Surely she's finished changing by now, you may go check if she's done," Monica said kindly, and Draco fought to hide the disgust he felt for her with a small smile.

"I'll leave you two alone then," Draco said. "Since I'm not wanted." With a parting kiss to his mother, he went back upstairs outside of Hermione's closed door.

The maid from earlier was also waiting outside, and when she saw Draco, she bowed quickly. It was against Draco's standards to talk to the help, so he merely sniffed to acknowledge her presence before continuing to wait in silence.

"I'm ready," Hermione's voice shifted out from the closed door. She opened the door, one hand clutching a fluffy towel to her hair and the other on the doorknob. Draco's eyes shifted to the towel wrapped around Hermione's body, and his lips curled to see that she noticed him looking and she shifted the towel tighter.

"This is a great view Granger," Draco said. "Though a bit- covered for my taste."

"We can't all be perverted like you," Hermione snapped, seeming to forget about the maid waiting by her door. "Why are you here still? Go with your mother."

"Trust me, I'd rather be with her," Draco said, "But she's preoccupied at the moment with your mother, and wants us to 'play' together. Do you hear that, Granger? Even my mother wants us to shag."

"You foul, loathsome little cockroach!" Hermione snarled. "Stay away from me!" Grabbing the maid by the hand, she pulled her inside the room and slammed it in Draco's face.

Draco simply smirked again. It was fun to wind her up, so very fun.

* * *

Hermione wished that Draco would wipe that stupid look on his face. He kept smirking towards her, as though he were waiting for her to say something rude in front of their mothers. Tea with the Malfoys was not something Hermione had wanted to do. But after she had gotten dressed in a lavender gown she thought too lavish for company tea, Queen Monica insisted Hermione join her, Narcissa, and Draco at the table.

"All of this has been lovely, Monica," Narcissa said snottily, standing up from her seat. Closing her hand on Draco's arm, she pushed away from the table. "Such a shame we must go. I shall bring you what we discussed sometime next week- wait for my letter."

"I cannot thank you enough, Narcissa," Monica said solemnly, and reached across the table to shake the other queen's hand. "I trust you'll come to the event I told you about?"

"If I can, you'll find me there," Narcissa said slowly. "But we must be leaving now. Draco, say goodbye."

"Goodbye, your majesty," Draco said, his nose turned up at the queen. He turned to Hermione, a gloating smile gracing his features. "Goodbye, Granger." Hermione frowned at him, but refused to bit back with her mother still there. Narcissa and Draco left the dining area, with Hermione refusing to look after them. The Malfoys. The rulers of Slytherin, and so obnoxious and rich that Hermione couldn't help but hate them.

Since they had left, Hermione picked up her cup and saucer, preparing to take them to the kitchens and help clean up. Thinking of leaving all the work to the maids was an instant no in her book.

"Hermione," Monica called to stop her daughter, "We haven't finished yet." Hermione paused by her mother, her dishes in hand.

"We haven't?" she asked, perplexed. "Mother, I assumed after the Malfoys left that-"

"This is rather important dear, please sit," Monica waved a hand towards the chair. Hermione slowly sat down, never relinquishing her hold on the cup and saucer.

"You see, Hermione, Gryffindor kingdom has been divided for years," Monica said, taking Hermione's hand in her own. "You also know, as well as I do, that we took the throne simply because my grandfather was a close friend of Godric Gryffindor himself, none other than the establisher of this fine kingdom, and that there was no one else he trusted."

"Yes, you've told me so many times," Hermione said, knowing she sounded as obnoxious as a Malfoy but couldn't help it. After all, a photographic memory like her own never needed a reminder. "That's why many of the people don't favor us- they deem us unfit since we have no royal blood."

"Exactly," Monica was glad her daughter remembered. "Now, since Gryffindor has been divided for so long, the king of the first half, Dumbledore, has gotten himself a heir to the throne, and there's been word that this new heir will strengthen Gryffindor."

"Dumbledore?" Hermione's interest was peaked. "He's an old man- never been married or had children! How?"

"His name is Harry Potter," Monica said. "Word is Dumbledore took him in, away from an aunt and uncle who didn't care about him. He's around your age." Hermione could tell what her mother was hinting at.

"Oh, mother, no-" Hermione groaned.

"I think it's best if you were to wed Harry Potter and bring Gryffindor together again," Monica said the dreaded words.

"Mother!" Hermione gasped. "I couldn't- I don't know him!"

"I've explained everything to your father," Monica said, her voice wavering. Hermione could sense she had tears in her eyes. "Please, Hermione, this could solve all of the kingdom's problems. If Gryffindor is united again, we are stronger. Think of the people, Hermione- they're in a hard place at the moment."

"I'm sure this Harry Potter fellow isn't keen on marrying me either," Hermione said stubbornly. "Please try and see this through my point of view, mother. I don't know him."

"This is why I've invited him to a ball next weekend," Monica said. "He will be there, as will Dumbledore. Then you'll have a chance to see that he's a wonderful young man."

"I could assume nonetheless from a prince," Hermione said spitefully, her mind flickering to Draco. Now, that was a prince that wasn't a "wonderful young man."

"I know how you must feel at the moment, dear," Monica sighed, looking fondly at her daughter. "But it's for the kingdom. Won't you consider that?" Hermione exhaled, looking away from her mother before turning back to her. As always, her mother was right. It wasn't for herself, but for her subjects.

"Alright," Hermione said, and the queen's face lit up. "But I have to meet him first."

"Thank you," Monica peppered Hermione's face with kisses. "This means so much to me, dear."

"I know," Hermione tried to say bravely, but her voice faltered. "Mother- I'm going up to my room now, if you don't mind."

"Of course not," Monica said. Hermione gave her mother one last smile before taking her dishes out to the kitchen.

Getting married for her kingdom was so noble, so expected, so cliché, and Hermione hated it. Especially to some no name Harry Potter.

**I messed something up, they're ooc, I swear to God, I'm ruining Harry Potter! I can feel it... **


	2. Revelations and an engagement ball

**The wedding will be next chapter! Yeah! So, I've spent some time in the Harry Potter archive but haven't found any good Dramione stories that are AUs. Any recommendations? Plus, the Harry Potter fandom is pretty welcoming. I'm glad to be part of it. :) Oh, and the cover art is by kaunelly on Deviantart, who was kind enough to let me use it. Go check out the rest of their art, it's beautiful! **

* * *

The ballroom of the Granger household was decorated and ready for the party. Hermione had seen a glimpse of it before she was whisked upstairs to get ready for a ball she did not want to attend.

"Please hold still, Princess," the maid around Hermione's age said kindly. Hermione winced as the maid tightened the corset strings painfully. "There. Your dress next."

The maid slid the dress over Hermione's head, and fastened the pearly buttons up the back carefully. Next the maid ran an ivory brush through Hermione's drying, tangled locks. Hermione wished she could do it herself, but knew that this was the maid's job.

"What's your name?" Hermione asked the maid randomly as the maid began to lift Hermione's hair strands into an elaborate updo.

"My name?" the maid was obviously perplexed.

"Your name," Hermione repeated, smiling. The maid's hands hovered over Hermione's scalp before continuing hesitantly.

"My name is Ginevra," the maid said, seemingly flustered, her freckles standing out in contrast with the blush that sprouted. "I usually go by Ginny."

"Ginny," Hermione repeated the name. "It's a lovely nickname."

"Thank you, Princess," Ginny beamed at the compliment, before stepping away from Hermione's finished hairdo to let the young woman glimpse a look of herself in the mirror.

Stepping slowly to the framed mirror on the vanity, Hermione would've sworn the girl that gaped back was not herself. Her bushy curls were tamed into a half up, half down elegant hairstyle. The strapless, light pink dress that was snug and the waist and puffed around in many waves around her legs looked so uncharacteristic but fitting.

"You look beautiful," Ginny murmured into Hermione's ear, seeing that the princess was hesitant to smile at her reflection. The reassurance was all it took. Hermione smiled, blushing at the compliment.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "I ought to be going, mother will fret."

"Your escort into the ballroom should be here soon," Ginny said. Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"...Escort?"

"Well, of course, it's not proper for the princess to arrive without an escort to the ballroom," Ginny explained. Peeking outside of the door, she smiled. "Oh, there he comes now!" Hermione expected her father or a relative to come bring her in. The last thing she expected was Draco Malfoy with his signature smirk looking back towards her.

"There's been a mistake," Hermione stated coldly, letting her eyes drift to Draco's perfectly handsome profile and frowning. "He cannot be my escort."

"Queen Monica picked me out herself," Draco said, the smile never leaving his lips. "But don't get too excited- I'm just going to go in with you. This doesn't mean I'm giving you the time of day, Granger."

"I would never see the day when you become a gentleman, Malfoy," Hermione sniffed indignantly. "So don't assume it's a pleasure to be in your company either."

"Listen, Granger, I can drag this out all evening, but I'd much rather get back to the party and leave you in the company of those Gryffindor idiots," Draco did a ridiculous head movement that sent his pale blond hair flopping over his forehead. Hermione inhaled sharply and reluctantly took Draco's arm.

"Goodbye Ginny," Hermione said. "You won't be attending the ball?" Ginny had begun to gather Hermione's clothing off of the floor at the point, and straightened up to answer.

"I'm afraid I can't," Ginny said apologetically. "I'm just a maid."

"That is ridiculous, and-" Before Hermione could say anything else, Draco whisked her away into the hallway and towards the ballroom.

"Associating with the help," Draco's lip curled unpleasantly. "What would you expect from a Mudblood princess."

"Mudblood!" Hermione exclaimed angrily. The term was an offensive word meant to describe a person on the throne who does not have royalty in their blood. "Ginny is a maid of mine, yes, but it doesn't make her any less than me."

"Then she should've gone as your escort," Draco said curtly, as a butler opened the ballroom doors to show them into the party.

"You foul git," Hermione hissed, but Draco only smirked as the two of them glided elegantly into the room.

"Princess Hermione Granger of Gryffindor, and Prince Draco Malfoy of Slytherin," a stout man at the door announced their arrival. Once inside, Hermione let go of Draco's arm and stepped away from him.

"Your dirtiness will rub off on me if I spend another second in your presence," Draco said snottily.

"Likewise, Malfoy," Hermione said, stalking away as fast as her high-heeled shoes could carry her. She paid a stop by the table laden with delectables, taking an appetizer carefully.

"There she is!" a sudden voice chimed, and Hermione nearly choked on her food as her mother and an old man- Dumbledore himself- came to greet her.

"Hermione Granger," Dumbledore took her hand suddenly, and kissed it. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Uh- yes," Hermione stammered, "It's a pleasure to meet _you_, sir..."

"The queen has been telling me all about you," Dumbledore continued. "A pleasant match for Harry. Of course, he's a darling boy. His parents passed away when he was nothing but a boy- and his aunt and uncle took him in. They weren't treating him at all well- so I took in and adopted the boy, in a way." Dumbledore chuckled, finding the situation funny. "Imagine! I've only got myself a son at my age and he's going to get married!"

Hermione knew about Harry being adopted. Since he wasn't related to Dumbledore, people were making snide remarks about how Harry was "The Chosen one" chosen to live out Dumbledore's legacy.

"Harry sounds delightful, sir," Hermione said, truthfully not even knowing anymore about him then what she already knew.

"I'll get him. Harry!" Dumbledore moved away, and Monica faced her daughter excitedly.

"Come, wipe that off your mouth-" she fussed over Hermione's appearance for a few seconds. "It's not every day your daughter meets the man she's going to marry!"

"I'm fine, mother, please," Hermione groaned. Dumbledore reappeared, with a young man around Hermione's age. He was around her height, with dark hair and odd glasses, and a sorry smile on his face.

"This is Harry," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Harry, this is Queen Monica."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Harry said respectfully, and took the queen's hand in his own.

"And this is Hermione," Dumbledore said. "The princess, and your future wife." Hermione winced at the words. Was she really expected to marry this man? Once she had never met before? Harry took Hermione's hand in his own, startling the girl, and kissed it, much like Dumbledore had done.

"Pleasure," he simply stated, releasing his grip on her fingers.

"Or-er-" Hermione said, at a loss for words. "You too," she finished lamely.

"We ought to leave them alone," Dumbledore smiled fondly at them both. He bent by Harry's ear and whispered something before leaving with Monica by his side.

"Can I have this dance?" Harry asked, bowing low. This was, undoubtably, what Dumbledore had instructed him to do. Hermione could see the not-so-discreet signaling movements her mother was doing herself.

"Of course," Hermione swallowed hard, letting her fiancé take her hand.

Harry rested his hand on Hermione's waist, took her right hand in his left, and moved to the soft music the quartet was playing. Hermione's eyes flickered over his shoulder, to where Draco Malfoy was making obscenely rude faces of mock disgust. It took all of her self-control to not make a rude gesture back. Harry seemed to notice she was distracted.

"Are you two-?" Harry questioned, tilting his head ever so slightly in Draco's direction. Hermione's eyes grew wide in horror.

"No. No, absolutely not. But our mothers are-" Hermione thought it over. "Business partners. They expect us to be friends, but of course, he's a nasty prat." Harry chuckled at her words.

"I'm no stranger to Draco Malfoy myself," he admitted. "He knew me when I was little- we had a run in which concluded in us basically becoming mortal enemies." Hermione couldn't stop the laugh of delight that sprouted from her mouth, clutching Harry's forearm tighter.

"You know Malfoy?" Hermione giggled like a little girl. "He's foul. However did you meet him?"

"Visiting Slytherin kingdom's pride and joy- the snake exhibition," Harry shook his head. "There was an incident in which a snake escaped... frightening my cousin. But when it responded to me, and not the little blond boy also calling after it, he was mad. Apparently, only Slytherin citizens can interact with the snakes."

"The snakes?" Hermione was laughing, harder than what was proper for a princess, but couldn't stop it. Harry was laughing along with her, and the two glided across the floor, at ease with one another at last.

"He yelled at a complete stranger like the spoiled brat he was," Harry laughed, "Reminded me very much of my cousin Dudley."

"Your cousin?" Hermione questioned.

"I lived with my uncle and aunt for most of my life," Harry explained. "I'm sure Dumbledore told you."

"He might've mentioned it," Hermione said slowly. "But he didn't-"

"My parents were killed," Harry murmured, tightening his grip on Hermione's hand. "By a man who then attempted to kill me- but he didn't succeed." Letting go of Hermione, he swept the hair off of his forehead to show her a scar.

Hermione felt her breath catch. She raised her hand, and let her fingers hover over Harry's scar. With her eyes, she asked for permission. He granted it with a nod. Hermione grazed his slightly marked skin, her touch tentative. Harry closed his eyes, letting Hermione explore his blemish without staring.

Just then, the song ended. Their intimacy was gone. Hermione stepped away from Harry; he opened his eyes. The claps of people filled the room at appreciation for the dancing that had just occurred.

"Thank you," Hermione said breathlessly. Harry smiled at her, and took her hand gently.

"I'm sorry you've got to marry me," he said as the two of them walked hand in hand through the crowd of people. "I'm not exactly anyone's first choice."

"Nonsense," Hermione insisted. "You must have a girl back home crazy about you."

"Not exactly-" Harry raised his eyebrows. "I never really got out much. But what about you? I'm sure you're leaving a boy behind with a broken heart..."

"Not me," Hermione laughed lightly. "Just like you- never got out much." The two of them sat at one of the tables, hands still intertwined.

"It's sort of funny, isn't it?" Harry mused. "Getting married to untie Gryffindor. Rather weird."

"I suppose it is," Hermione said, and let go of Harry's hand. "At least you're not loathsome." The last part was said teasingly. The two of them were oddly getting along.

"Thank you-?" Harry trailed, but there was a smile evident in his voice. "I honestly expected you to be a spoiled brat or something... Gryffindor citizens make your family out to be traitors of some sort."

"Because my family weren't born into the throne," Hermione admitted. "As a result, many of or subjects see us unfit to rule."

"That's horrible," Harry frowned. "It's not right. I suppose people will say the same about me?" Hermione shook her head.

"My mother told me that you have royalty in your blood," she said. "We don't at all."

"That must be why they want us to get married," Harry said, and placed his hand on top of Hermione's. His thumb rubbed circles into her skin. "I hope you don't find this incredibly awkward- though it is-"

"I agree, it must-" Hermione began, but never finished.

"Granger," Draco Malfoy stalked towards the table with his annoying confident swagger. Harry let go of Hermione's hand.

"Malfoy, what is it you need?" Hermione's voice turned ice cold.

"Simple. I need to dance with you," Draco said, like that made perfect sense. His eyes flickered in recognition towards Harry, and his face twisted into one of loathing. "Potter."

"Malfoy," Harry snapped back.

"Why would you 'need' to dance with me?" Hermione hissed. "Go dance with that precious Pansy Parkinson of yours, the daughter of an all-mighty noble rather than a Mudblood."

"You're so daft, Granger," Draco said, tossing his hair over his forehead impatiently. "My mother will give me no peace, and she insists it's only right that I dance with the hostess of the ball before we can leave. I wouldn't touch your dirty mother with a ten foot pole, so I'll settle for you. Not that you're any better."

"You foul bastard," Hermione snapped, "I wouldn't dance with you if we were the last two people on earth and our lives depended on it! Don't you dare speak about my mother that way!"

"She's nothing but a Mudblood," Draco said smugly. "Just like you."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry intercepted angrily. "Don't talk about the queen that way. Or the princess."

"Potter, you stay out of things that don't concern you," Draco said. "Oh wait, I forgot. You're getting married to Granger. I pity you."

"Leave, Malfoy," Harry said, his temper rising. "Now."

"Gladly," Draco said, "But I'll need to borrow your future wife." He grabbed Hermione by the wrist, and yanked her towards the dance floor. The quartet had started another song again, a slow one.

"Let go of me," Hermione struggled against him. Draco grabbed her waist and pulled her in against his chest.

"Congratulations on your engagement," he said in a tone that suggested just the opposite of what he'd said, and began to dance with her.

"Thank you," Hermione said back icily. "You're such a slave to your precious mother, aren't you? Doing whatever she tells you to. And here I thought you were a man."

"I'm not rude like some people," Draco tightened his hold, pulling Hermione closer so that her face was inches from his. "She is my mother."

"Then you understand why I don't appreciate you insulting my own mother," Hermione frowned.

"That's where we're different, Granger-" Draco loosed his hold, spun Hermione around, and yanked her back into his arms. "We're Pureblood, and you're- you."

"You're the worst person I've ever had the misfortune of being next to," Hermione said angrily.

"Likewise, Granger," Draco obviously mocked her words from when he had escorted her in. He moved across the floor, towards where Queen Narcissa and King Lucius were dancing.

Hermione eyed both of them hesitantly, but they didn't speak to them. Only Draco acknowledged them with a tight lipped smile before moving on. Hermione was whisked harshly to another area of the room, her face sinking into the front of Draco's shirt. He smelled good, something Hermione couldn't place. Quickly, she pulled away.

The song ended and Draco stepped away from her. Hermione's arms fell from Draco's sides, and she took an even further step back. Before Draco could say something, Harry appeared at Hermione's side and took his fiancé's arm.

"I'll be cutting in here," he said firmly. "I trust you'll come to the wedding?" Draco's face twisted into a sneer.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he said. He stalked away. Just like that. Hermione gratefully placed her hand on Harry's, but kept her eyes glued to Draco.

* * *

**Still ooc- yeah. Any Dramione fic recommendations, I'd love to hear them! **


	3. The wedding and the stupid girl

**Hey! It's florairmatylee, deciding to post another chapter for my amazing readers. Even if you don't leave me a review or anything, please just know what I love you all. In the most un-creepy way possible. Ahem. So, to those who celebrate, I hope your Christmas was wonderful. And any help on how to write the actions of the beloved Harry Potter characters would be much appreciated. Because I still feel so out of practice writing them all. And while it all seems to be going a bit slowly at this point, it shall have a plot. I promise that. And I've gotten a review talking about how a Draco hypnotizing Hermione would make a more interesting read than what I'm writing out- well, it's not that interesting now, but maybe if I develop the plot a bit out more, it might hopefully one day, be interesting to read-? **

* * *

"We are going to be late for the service, Lucius!" Queen Narcissa Malfoy snapped, seeing as her husband lazily wrapped his tie around his neck.

"I had no idea you were so devoted to this Mudblood family," Lucius snarled. "It seems as if you value their time more than mine."

"That would never be true, Lucius, but when you take up enough time as it is-" Narcissa fidgeted around the room, grabbing her purse. "Where is Draco? Draco!"

"Mother, I'm waiting for you and father," Draco ambled into the room with a sly smile.

"Draco, dear, get the carriage ready for us, please. Your father refuses to get a move on, and I do not want to miss the vows!" Narcissa grabbed her shawl and scowled at the man she'd married. Lucius frowned but finished fixing his clothing up.

"Vows, vows. Were you this eager to get to the vows when we were getting married?" he muttered.

"Lucius, please," Narcissa said in exasperation. "This will be good for Draco. He could find some fairly nice young woman at this event, maybe even get married himself soon."

"There's nobody with pure blood anymore," Lucius frowned. "Why can't he get married to that Pansy girl? She's nice, isn't she? And she's Pureblood."

"She's also an intolerable young lady who's been stained," Narcissa sniffed, "Don't think the word hasn't gotten around. No, that's not who I want my Draco associating with. How about that Ravenclaw princess? What's her name, er, Cho Chang?"

"Preposterous," Lucius insisted. "She's gotten together with practically every noble or prince that's gone to her kingdom."

"Honestly, Lucius, you're don't even know what you're smattering on about," Narcissa huffed. "She's not a bad choice, for your-"

"Mother, Father, the carriage has been waiting," Draco called up before they could argue any further.

"I will see that my son finds himself a suitable young woman," Narcissa said firmly.

"With my help, of course," Lucius snapped. "Honestly, Narcissa, one day _He_ will return to power and take down their so-called chosen one. And will you plan a wedding through this?"

Before Narcissa could answer, Draco's voice rose up again.

"Mother, the carriage!"

Lucius left their room to get to the carriage at last, but Narcissa couldn't take what Lucius had said out of her head as she slowly followed her family.

* * *

"You look stunning," Ginny said, straightening the white veil on Hermione's head one last time. She stepped back, letting Hermione see herself in the full-length mirror. Queen Monica walked up behind her daughter, tears in her eyes.

"Oh, Hermione," she sniffed, squeezing her daughter's shoulder. "I always dreamed of the day you'd get married-"

Hermione stepped away from her mother, taking in her reflection as if for the first time. Ivory and strapless, lace fluttered from her waist all the way down to the floor. Her hair had been placed strategically up, pinned by her crown and the veil.

"Are we going to be late?" Hermione asked. She had tried not to dwell on the fact that she was getting married. Married. To Harry Potter. Glad as she was that he wasn't an arse, that didn't make him exactly a dreamboat either.

"No, we should be just in time," Monica sighed contentedly. "Hermione, the carriage is ready already."

"I suppose I should just buck up," Hermione lowered her chin. "I do want to marry him- I mean, I suppose I do."

"You'll be wonderful," Ginny offered her words of parting. It had been a few weeks since Harry and Hermione had met, and in that time, Ginny and Hermione's friendship was slowly flourishing.

"Thank you, Ginny," Hermione smiled weakly. "You'll be there, of course?"

"She is going," Monica assured Hermione. "Now, go on, my bride. You'll have to hurry or Harry will think we've forgotten about him."

"Couldn't have that, could we?" Hermione forced a smile. Monica laid a warm hand on her daughter's back, tracing circles soothingly.

"What you're doing is wonderful," Monica whispered to her as the two of them walked down the grand staircase.

"I know," Hermione mumbled back.

"The bouquet!" an older maid rushed out with a bundle of fresh lilies.

"Thank you, Molly," Monica said, taking the bouquet from the maid and handing it to her daughter. "Let's get a move on. The horses can get very restless sometimes."

Hermione had no choice but to go through with her wedding.

* * *

"Do you, Harry Potter, take Hermione Granger to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, through richer or poorer, for better or worse, till death do you part?" the elderly priest squinted down at the book he held, waiting.

"I do," Harry said solemnly. Hermione let her eyes wander to her soon-to-be husband. He looked quite ravishing in a tux, she had to admit.

"And do you, Hermione Granger, take Harry Potter to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, through richer or poorer, for better or worse, till death do you part?"

It would be so easy to refuse. To say no. To stomp out of the church and tear the tight crown off of her head. But did she do any of that? Of course not. She was Hermione Granger.

"I do," Hermione said.

"Then by the powers vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride," the priest said, closing the bible and smiling at the two young adults before him.

Harry made the first move. His hands secured around Hermione's waist, and he pressed his lips to hers gently. Hermione let her own hands rest on his forearms and kissed him back.

The crowd gathered to witness their vows erupted in cheers and claps, most standing on their feet. Harry pulled away first, and gave Hermione an apologetic smile. Hermione grinned back and grabbed his hand, pulling him down the aisle and after her to the doors, the people rejoicing after them.

"That was fun," Harry joked, Hermione's fingers curling around his.

"It's not over yet," Hermione laughed, as their invited guests poured out of the church after them.

"Congratulations to the married couple," Dumbledore arrived to congratulate them before anyone else could, bowing before them.

"Dumbledore," Harry said, obviously embarrassed. Hermione could see that even if they weren't blood related, Harry obviously cared for Dumbledore. This realization made the smile on her face grow.

"Now, Harry, you've just gotten married to a beautiful young woman," Dumbledore said fondly. "I suppose we ought to discuss living area. It is to my knowledge that the queen and king shall retire to the countryside now that Hermione has settled."

The news sent a pang through Hermione's stomach, and her grip on Harry's hand intensified. She was going to become a queen soon. Queen Hermione. The thought terrified her.

"And I will be retiring myself, to a beautiful mountain village," Dumbledore smiled at his own happy thoughts. "Therefore, my castle shall be turned into an orphanage, and you and Hermione will live in the Granger household."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Harry said.

"Yes, but you know the keeper of my horses, Hagrid, would be without a home if this happened," Dumbledore said. "The lad's quite close to me, Harry. Surely you won't mind if he moves in with you two?"

"Of course not, he's more than welcome," Hermione said happily.

"You've got the kind heart of a Gryffindor," Dumbledore clasped Hermione's hand in his own. "Both of you. Now, I'll let your other guests talk to you two." He left the two of them, and the newly married couple were instantly bombarded by their other guests.

"Congratulations," a nobleman Hermione vaguely recognized from Ravenclaw told them. Following him was a young woman around Hermione's age, who smiled brightly at them.

More people moved around them, always saying the same thing, and wishing them all the best on their special day.

Hermione was very surprised when the Malfoys walked up to them, however. They didn't strike her as the celebratory types.

"Hermione," Narcissa gave the bride a stiff hug before pulling back. "You look so lovely. And this must be Harry Potter." She looked towards the groom. Harry took her hand and kissed it respectfully.

"Your Highness," he said simply. From behind her, Draco and Lucius hung back.

"Lucius," Narcissa snapped. Her husband sighed but kissed Hermione's hand, and shook Harry's.

"Such a wonderful day to have a wedding," Lucius kept his grip on Harry's hand, never taking his eyes off of him. "Isn't it?"

"I believe so, sir," Harry said, her voice hardening. "I'm delighted that you're attending. You'll be at the reception, I presume?"

"We won't miss it," Lucius said icily, glaring at Harry unbecomingly.

"Draco, say hello," Narcissa moved onto her son, staring him down.

"Hello, Potter," Draco said sharply, and shook his hand quickly. He then made a show of wiping his hand on his trousers.

"Malfoy," Potter growled in response, wiping his own hand.

"Granger," Draco let his eyes travel to the bride. Hermione eyed him as Draco took her hand, slowly kissed it, and let it fall.

"Draco," Hermione called him by his first name bitterly, and took a step back from him. Draco gave her a blank look and did the same.

"We'll see you two later, at the reception," Narcissa patted Hermione's shoulder before ushering her family away.

Hermione couldn't help herself, she glared after them. The Malfoys were absolute horrors. Not even Narcissa was kind enough for her liking, and she always made a tiny effort.

"Let's go," Harry said quietly. "I see they're bothering you. The reception will start soon anyway- I see Hagrid over there, he's driving us to the castle."

"They're not bothering me Harry," Hermione lied, but walked towards the carriage with him. "They're just being- Slytherins."

* * *

The Malfoys stood outside of ballroom in the Grangers castle, while Narcissa Malfoy instructed them on last minute behavioral issues.

"I want all of you to be on your best behavior, please," Narcissa told her family. "Lucius, please do not embarrass us. Draco, be civil to the Gryffindors, alright?"

"No promises," Draco walked towards the doors, smirking.

"I do not embarrass the Malfoy name!" Lucius said indignantly. Narcissa sighed, and followed her son through the double doors.

"King Lucius Malfoy, Queen Narcissa Malfoy, and Prince Draco Malfoy of Slytherin!" the stout man standing by the door announced their arrival.

Narcissa and Lucius had gone to sit at a table with their names written, but Draco decided to wander around the party. As he was turning, he almost crashed into a girl standing smack-dab in the middle of the floor, her eyes drifting up to the ceiling.

"Watch where you're standing!" Draco frowned at her. The girl, one with long blond hair, turned her silvery grey eyes onto Draco.

"Perhaps you ought to watch where you're walking," she said, but it wasn't a sentence said snappily, or even the least bit annoyed. She said it as if it were a kind suggestion, and tilted her head to look closer at Draco.

He recognized her. She was a noble's daughter, from Ravenclaw kingdom, a loony girl that people called Luna Lovegood.

"I don't make it my business to walk around other people- inferior to me," Draco sniffed, walking past her.

"Maybe you should," Luna said cheerfully, and kept standing there.

Stupid girl, Draco thought, frowning as he kept walking. His mother expected him to be civil? With any of these idiots? Highly unlikely. His wandering eyes laid themselves on the bride and groom, who were sitting next to each other and chatting away with flutes of champagne. Oh, this would be fun, he thought. Perhaps he could entertain himself by seeing how far he could push Harry Potter.

"Granger, Potter," Draco stood in front of them. "I see the two of you are enjoying your wedding night."

"Do you need something, Malfoy?" Harry's expression of laughter turned to one of loathing rather quickly as he examined the Slytherin Prince.

"I'm just fine, Potter, thank you for asking," Draco turned to Hermione. "I was just wondering if I could steal your bride for a second or two."

"Draco-" Hermione set her glass down, about to say something else, but Draco just helped her up before she could talk.

"Just for a dance, Potter, you act as if I'm trying to kill her," Draco said as he noticed Harry's foul expression.

Draco noted that Hermione was out of sorts. She blinked a lot, and didn't argue when Draco placed both of his hands on her waist.

"Draco?" Hermione questioned, holding onto his shoulders. Draco could smell the spirits on her breath, a clear indication she had been drinking too much.

"You're drunk, and you don't know what you're doing," Draco stated, as they moved from side to side. "How does your husband like that you've gotten intoxicated on your wedding night?"

"It's none of your business," Hermione snapped, but not as strongly as she usually would. Yes, it was obvious she had drunk over her limit.

"You're right, it's not," Draco said slowly, pulling Hermione closer to himself. "But if you were my wife, I wouldn't have you drinking. You see, then you do things you regret. Potter's sure daft if he can't realize how vulnerable you are-"

"You're an arse, Draco Malfoy," Hermione said angrily. Ah, there was the fire he knew and loved.

"Perhaps, but I'm not wasted," he said.

"I haven't drunk that much," Hermione said, but swayed more than she should, gripping onto the coat of Draco's suit.

"I think you ought to go to bed, Granger," Draco frowned. Hermione shook her head, the delicate lace veil she wore rippling like a wave.

"I am just fine, Malfoy, you cannot tell me what to do," Hermione said, her brown eyes piercing into Draco's grey ones and holding her stare.

"Very well, I won't," Draco stepped away from the bride, releasing her from his arms. Almost instantly, Hermione stumbled. Draco took her in his arms again.

"Take me to Harry, Draco, please," Hermione said quietly, resting her head on Draco's chest.

"He's rather busy at the moment," Draco's eyes flickered to Harry Potter, who was conversing with the same pretty redheaded maid he'd encountered outside of Hermione's bathroom.

"No. He needs to know where I am," Hermione whispered.

"And he will, Granger, he will," Draco said impatiently, and began to lead her out of the ballroom.

"No, he'll-"

"Shut up, Granger, doesn't your mouth do anything other than complain?" Draco hissed, shutting the doors after them. The hallway was empty, lucky for them, because their position did not look compromising. After all, Draco was clutching the bride to his chest and supporting her upright with his arms.

"We're in the hallway," Hermione stated obviously, struggling to stand on her own again.

"You're going to fall again, you dumb girl, just tell me where your bedchamber is so I can take you there," Draco snapped. Hermione shook her head devilishly, and a small, girlish giggle sprouted from her lips.

"I won't tell you," she said, closing her eyes with a smile. _Wonderful_. The very last thing Draco needed was Hermione falling asleep right then and there. _Wasn't he just supposed to dance with her to annoy Potter? Why was he now holding her up when she was intoxicated? _

Obviously he had to take her to her room. Even though he had been there before, it had always been with the help of a maid. He could not keep track of the winding staircases and long corridors. Draco glanced wildly around, and spotted a man walking past their hallway. By the white uniform he wore, he must work for the Grangers.

"You there!" Draco called out. The man stopped, seeing the bride was in the Slytherin prince's arms. "Yes, you. Come here." The man walked closer to them, until Draco could take in the sight of the man's tailored clothing and red hair.

"Prince Draco," the man said it like it was a statement, not a question. His eyes narrowed slightly. _Oh, even better. Obnoxious help who was going to judge his motives. _

"Take me to Granger's room," Draco said bluntly, as Hermione was still drooping in sleep.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," he said, looking at both of them suspiciously. "Only Princess Hermione- and her husband- ought to enter her private quarters."

"I am trying to do a noble thing here, and leave your precious princess in her own bed because she's drunk out of her mind," Draco gritted his teeth, quickly loosing his patience. "Do as I ask. I have no other intentions than to see her safe."

"You're a Slytherin," this butler was still wary. "None of you believe in safe."

"I only want to rid myself of her, got it?" Draco growled. "And if you'd rather carry this heavy woman to her room, be my guest!" He gave Hermione a shake, and the princess frowned in her slumber, still clinging onto Draco. The butler's eyes flickered to the princess and back to Draco's impatient facial expression.

"Very well," the butler said coolly. "But I shall see that you leave her safe and sound in her bed, and nothing more."

"Honestly, as if I'm doing something wrong," Draco huffed, but began to follow the man as the butler turned down the corner. There were stairs. Of course; Draco remembered that he'd traveled up stairs the last time he had paid Granger a visit. Yet he couldn't remember where her room was-

The butler paused at the foot of the stairs, seeing as Draco lifted Hermione up so that her head was cradled in his neck, and so that his arms were wrapped around her knees. _Her annoying wedding dress_, he thought. His hands were getting lost in all the lace.

Satisfied, the butler kept going up the winding staircase, and Draco followed carefully. Good God, the girl was heavy. Draco hated moving slowly, and glared at the butler as if it was his fault. The three of them had finally gotten up the seemingly thousands of stairs, and the butler turned down a hall before stopping in front of two large doors.

"Through here," the butler said, and pushed the door open for Draco. Draco walked in, still surveying the butler. Just as the man was about to follow Draco, a loud call stopped him.

"_Ronald Weasley_!" an older redheaded woman walked down the hallways towards him. "I needed you to fetch Ginevra from the ballroom ages ago!" She peered towards him curiously, and looked inside Hermione's room, where Draco was lying Hermione down on her covers.

"I'm sorry, mum," the butler, Ronald, said, stepping away from the door. "I'll go now."

"Yes, you do that, young man," the maid said crankily, and she and her son left.

Alone, Draco pushed Hermione's arms away from his neck. She mumbled something and laid on her back, her veil splaying itself around her.

"Aren't you the slightest bit uncomfortable, woman?" Draco frowned, seeing the crown she was currently pushing back into her pillow. "Here." Coaxing her, he turned her to her side and began to slide the crown off of her head. Ouch. He could see the red marks it left on her head. Draco quickly shook that thought away from his head. No, he wasn't about to feel sorry for the princess.

He pulled out a few jeweled hair pins, watching as her brown hair fanned over her pillows elegantly. Alright, so he couldn't feel sorry for her, but at least he could feel some scrap of remorse for girls. They had to wear these ridiculous novelties in order to look fancy.

"Daddy?" Hermione's quiet whisper stopped his actions. Draco looked down at her in horror as her pink lips formed a fond smile.

"I'm not your father, dimwit," Draco mumbled back, and yanked the veil out from under her. Hermione's eyebrows furrowed in her sleep.

Now that her hairstyle was gone, Draco picked up a random cover he found and tossed it over the princess haphazardly. Hermione smiled again, and clutched it to her chest.

"Stupid girl," Draco stepped away from the bed and watched her sleep. "You should know better than to drink. My father ought to hear about this." The last part was teasing, he knew, but Lucius Malfoy did love to point out every fault in peasants such like her.

Draco shook his head again, as if the cranial thrust could scramble these strange thoughts away. Hermione Granger, the princess of Gryffindor, was laid to bed by none other than Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince.

If word got around by that nasty butler that he actually had some sort of respect for the girl, it wouldn't be good.


End file.
